I’ve kidnapped your poem

To see it again

Give me lots of money

In twenties and tens

Leave it in the hollow

Of a willow tree

As soon as I count it

Your verse will be free

Don’t bring English teachers

Or Grammar Police

And no funny money

I know when I’m fleeced

I must end this letter

I’ve run out of rhymes

You have twenty four hours

Your poem’s really good

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